Archaen Steel
by Lowell Boston
Summary: The Archaens are invited to join the AiD Pact. First they must find a traitor in their midst
1. Default Chapter Title

**Archaen Steel**   


(formerly under the title The Baby-sitter )

_____________________________________________________________   


**NEGOTIATOR**

_ne-go'ti-a'tor n._

1. one who negotiates. 2. a guide in foreign territory. 3. the first Diplomatic Imperial ship commissioned by Emperor Peter Farfel Marcello   
after first contact with a sentient alien species in 3320. 4. a class of Archaen cruiser's commissioned for diplomatic missions.

**-Excerpt from the Human Archaic Dictionary**   


______________________________**1**______________________________   


"Picture the cube. The volume inside, and the space it displaces out. Now, solidify it. Make it stone ...Knosqua'locay bedrock."

Cambridge narrowed his eyes against the Dream-sun. It was hot. As it should be. He was pleased with his reality. Around the ruins stretched a   
sandy, scorched plain for kilometers in each direction, ending in a smudged horizon of tropical jungle growth. Everything was nearly perfect for   
the test ...Nearly.

A scarab-fly formed out of thin air. Instantly it flew around the young girl standing a few paces away from him, her face a mask of focus.   
Circling twice, the insect landed upon her neck and stung her. Calmly, she brushed it aside with her hand. Her face remained unchanged,   
her eyes closed in tranquil concentration.

"Very good, wisechild. Continue."

Five meters above her floated what appeared to be a massive twenty ton cube of stone. Had the child's concentration slipped, even for a moment,   
the stone would have drop, killing her instantly. On the Mindplane, Dreams could kill.

"Now, imagine Knosqua'locay storms. Ten thousand years of them, weathering the   
Titan rock, eroding it ...good ...very good."

The block's edges soften. Grooves and depressions appeared upon its sides. A deep crack grew down one face.

"No your Highness, too far. MINDRACE Solce Titan ruins block number four. Find the correct link and adjust."

Within her consciousness, the young child's thoughts 'raced' to retreived the exact memory with a speed and clarity twenty times faster   
than a normal humans. Her brows slightly forrowed. The stone began to waver.

"Maintain Alpha R.E.M., wisechild."

A few moments passed and the stone began to steady. The crack disappeared.

"Very good. Now, place the block with the rest of the ruins."

The girl turned and the block followed. With a slight mental command she pushed it away and settled it down next to three others of   
similar shape. A third of its mass settled into the foundation pit she spent the last three mornings mentally digging. Cambridge carefully watched   
her work, approval growing in his mind. When the dust finally settled he closed his eyes and MINDRACED the image. Lady Onia watched   
him patiently.

"Excellent, your Highness. I see you even placed the stone at a slight obtuse angle   
due to its shift from last season's hurricanes. Our trip to Solce Providence was not ... "

The True-Dreamer's face grimaced.

"Master Cambridge ...is something wrong?"

Cambridge open his eyes and regarded his student.

"Something has rocked the Dream Chamber ...the very ship itself, I think ...and ...we have a visitor."

A man phased out of the air. He hovered several feet above them.

"Is this a private dream, or can anyone enter?"

"Hello Jan," said Onia.

The Assassin-Guardian smiled down upon his charge. A handsome man, his thick brown hair was cut just short above his ears. Below his   
sharp brows, flashed blue eyes that seemed to tinkle with a light of their own. His square chin, soften with a stylish goatee, made it difficult   
for one to guess his age. The rest of him wore the business attire of an Imperial Assassin-Guardian. A Warsaw was sheathed across his back,   
two Sabersaws crossed his waist, a Torpedo Blaster holstered to his left thigh and his feet, braced in the traditional sickle-shoes of his order.   
His left arm hung by his blaster with feigned casualness.

"Your Highness." Jan courtly bowed with both fist crossed over his chest.

"Lord Cambridge." He nodded to the Dream-Engineer.

"Problem?" asked Cambridge.

"We've been spotted," answered Jan.

"Already?" The True-Dreamer arched a brow.

"Bound to happen sooner or later." Jan shrugged and continued. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel your Mindplane session, and escort   
you both to an Imperial Ward."

Cambridge winced slightly again. On the Material plane the Dream Chamber shook. He tried to imagine the fighting outside the ship.

"I understand," said True-Dreamer.

He turned to his student. Lady Onia Onnetta Farfel-Marcello, the youngest daughter to the Emperor of the Archaen Empire, was calm.   
Only her nostrils flared slightly, but to a Dreamer, that lack of control was a near indication to wide spread terror. Emotions; the bane of all Dreamers.

Cambridge furrowed. Jan noticed it too. He hovered to the ground and knelt next to his charge.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want, your Highness. The Wights can give us one more surge to out distance the pirates,   
but time is short. Personally, I'd feel better if we just attended the Treaty Conference."

"Liar, Jan Church. You've been looking forward to this for weeks."

Onia closed her eyes. She inhaled softly through her nose and slowed her heart rate to twenty beats per minute. Her mind entered   
Alpha R.E.M. The trembling stopped. She opened her eyes and Jan was met with a startling likeness to her father's. Strong eyes,   
stone gray, capable of leading men into battle. Eyes that he vowed his sword and soul to protect and to serve. He was satisfied.

"Our duty is clear to the Empire. We will continue with this operation."

"Aye that your Majesty, by your word." Jan began to stand.

"One more thing, Jan Church," continued the eight year old. "You are my Hand and my Shield ...and my friend. I do not wish to lose you this day."

*High praise from a Dreamer,* Cambridge thought. Did he detected a slight blush between Jan's eyes?

"Not a scratch, your Highness," said Jan. Onia looked at him fully, her brows arched in a Dreamer's smile.

"Liar."

The Mind projections of the three phased out of the air, leaving the Dream-world in silence. The plains of Knosqua'locay evaporated like water.   
  


_____________________________________________________________   
  


Captain Whang of Lady Onia's Retainers pressed himself against the wall as two squads of fully armed Imperial Marines ran by in double time march.   
The Sergeant-of-Arms called out,

"Red alert! ...Clear this hall!"

"Yeah-yeah ...ya swabie!" retorted Whang. He regarded his Second in Command. "No respect for our order," he said.

"It is their ship, sir," answered his Second.

"Yeah, there is that."

The ship suddenly lurched, the lights flickered, but his men regained their balance. Next to them stood the massive doors to the Imperial Dream   
Chamber. A familiar tingle played across Whang's wrist via his Sensor-Glove.

"Here! Here! her Highness! her Highness!"

The men came to attention moments before the doors slide open. Jan Church stood before them. His eyes swept the hall environment before   
resting on Whang's. The Captain recognized that look. A few paces behind him Lady Onia and Cambridge patiently waited. The 'Sin-Guardian pulled   
his Captian aside.

"Take Lady O, and Cambridge to the Imperial Ward. Guard them yourself."

The ship violently shook again. Jan could hear the hull groan with stress.

"Ishtar! We're taking a beating," said the 'Sin-Guardian, perhaps more to himself than anyone.

"Yaacov wants to fight. Doesn't like this idea of running," answered Whang.

"That's not the plan," said Church. Whang shrugged again.

Removing his Warsaw, and left Sabersaw he passed them to his Captain. The symbolism wasn't missed. Whang was to protect the Princess with Jan's blade.

"Where will you be sir,?" inquired the Head Retainer as he shouldered the weapons.

"The bridge. 'Fraid I'm going to have to pull rank."

Whang pulled a sly grin. One of the perks of the 'Sin-Guardian Order was under some situations they nearly outranked any military officer.   
Fortunately for Jan, this happened to be one of them.

"Do you believe we have a traitor on board sir?"

"I do now," answered the assassin.

" ...Understood sir. Your back is watched."

"Yours too."

Jan turned and jogged down the corridor in the direction of the Imperial Marines. Whang called orders to his troops. Lady Onia and Cambridge   
entered the hall, were encircled by a protective cocoon of retainers, and escorted down the corridor in the opposite direction. Whang threw back a   
nervous look in the direction of his superior.   


_____________________________________________________________   
  


"No! ...closer! ...as close as you can get."

Jan looked over the shoulder of the Wight-Spector pilot and watched the growing image on the H.M.S. Negotiator's bridge screen. E'Bok Tan,   
a medium blue sun off the shoulder of the Rhuk-D'kai Empire drew closer.

The bald Spector turned towards the 'Sin-Guardian. The Wight- symbiotic suspended in the left lens of his golden spectacles shimmered a faint   
prismatic gray: signs of worry. The hull temperature was nearly eight thousand degrees.

"Don't worry, Chase, the shields will hold. The Wights can do it."

"You sound as if you know this ship." The voice came from behind him. Jan turned. Fleet Captain Yaacov stood with his hands behind his back,   
clenching and unclenching them in white knuckled tension. The ship shook again.

"I don't. But I know the Wights."

Yaacov sat down in his command chair, and helped himself to his cup of Tur'kesh coffee.

"What are you planning to do to my ship Mr. Church?" asked the stout Captain. His head was cocked in a measuring stare.

"What's our status?" asked the 'Sin-Guardian.

"We are down to our last Mag-shield. Shield One we dropped when the pirates first opened fire to play the wounded ship."

Yaacov sipped his beverage.

"And? ..."asked Jan.

"They must have bought it,"replied the Fleet Captain. "They opened up with a full volley. By your plan we would have   
dropped Shield Two to complete the masquerade, but they actually took that out. Their weapons are quite powerful."

Jan nodded in agreement. "And we returned fire?"

"With everything. Their first and second ships were moderately damaged. Their third, smaller vessel hung back."

Jan didn't like that, but supposed there wasn't much he could do.

"The Wights have compensated by augmenting Shield Three, but at the expense of our FTL speed. And now, Mr. Church,   
you are flying the Negotiator into a sun. I hope you realize that there is a limit to what our probability warping citizens can do."

"Yes, I do, but not into, just close. What's happening with the pirates?"

"Their pursuing of course, but ...ahhh I see."And the Fleet captain cocked his head again. "You've leveled the playing field." He put down his cup.

"Well done, Mr. church. The Ghoiites will likewise have to increase power to their shields and engines to resist the increase gravity and heat,   
slowing them down and ..."

Yaacov thought about it some more, a gleam shone in his eyes.

"...And perhaps degrading their weapons as well."

Jan smiled.

"So you'll bury the hatchet?"

Yaacov laughed, a good deep sound.

"Yes, yes I approve of these tactics, Mr. Church. Tell me, have you ever thought about a career in the Imperial Fleet?"

"No thanks. Too dangerous for me."

Yaacov roared again. Alarms went off throughout the bridge. The Operations Officer sent commands to fireteams shipwide. The Captain stood up,   
and picked up his cup.

"Whatever you plan next, I hope it's soon."

Jan turn to the Spector pilot.

"Have you identified the Ghoiite ships, Chase?"

"Yes sir. We have them here."

Jan read the names off the screen and committed them to memory. He turned back to the Captain.

"Actually sir, I'd like permission to leave the ship."

Yaacov looked at him in disbelief.   


_____________________________________________________________   
  


The shimmering image of an Imperial 'Sin-Guardian suddenly appeared under the leafy canopy of the Jade Blade - Interstellar Tavern of   
Dreamworld 6, and familiar watering hole to much of the Greater Galaxy. The unexpected appearance startled two Nos' Traulian Hullers   
so much that they jumped from their chairs, cracking their carapaces in several places.

Jan's image flickered before solidifying into a solid, smokey gray; about ninety percent opacity. He adjusted several slidebars on the collar device   
about his neck, but his image remained the same.

The holo-kinetic Field-Sculptor, on loan from the Rhuk-D'kai Embassy, was successful in breaking through the Ghoiite's communication jam,   
weaken by the suns radiation, but Jan wasn't all there. As his visual input came into focus he noticed, much to his chagrin, that his crotch area   
and left knee were missing. Mentally he shrugged. He'd have to be satisfied with what he had. Looking up he noticed the two Nos'Traulians   
staring at him. He smiled.

"Greetings fellow sentients. Jan Church of the August Empire of Archaen."

The Archaen crossed his arms in a tight fisted 'x' and courtly bowed

"Mmmmeex ddDDDRREeee' qqqQQQ'RRRrroooOOMMmm GLAX'Ta'ck!" said the Hullers.

"That sounds so formal. Really, what do your friends call you?".

The Nos'Traulians looked at each other, then waved three dozen or so feelers through Jan's holo-form.

"Mmmmeex ddDDDRREeee' qqqQQQ'RRRrroooOOMMmm GLAX'Ta'ck!"

"Gottcha" Jan nodded respectfully with his hands upon his chest. The Nos'Traulians returned the gesture with their twenty or so arms,   
and returned to their table and drinks. The Archaen turned to the bar.

The tree was an undeniable presence in the room. Standing six meters high, its dense canopy spread twice that distance. Encircled around   
the trunk,like a wide marble halo, floated the bar's counter top. Chairs for various species were congregated about the bar like an eclectic   
furniture collection that, oddly enough, seemed quite natural in their present environment. The floor was sand (or appeared to be) stretching   
all the way to the horizon of a vast desert. Jan surmised that to be the daily holo-mural. Scattered about the desert terrain were two-dimensional   
portals leading to different sections of the bar environment, and scattered between them were about half a dozen patrons.

The 'Sin-Guardian's holo-form walked to the bar. On the other side was a magnificent oval porthole ten meters at its narrowest part. As always,   
Jan was mesmerized. Beyond was the breathtaking spacescape of Taarkhul Prime, the Rhuk-D'kai Homeworld. Various ships scuttled by, and   
the assassin recognized a few deepspace Archaen vessels.

Dreamworld.

The cross road of the Tri-sector area. Neutral trading ground for over a hundred Minor Empires. All could be found here. Technology, magical items.   
entertainment ...and especially information

"For the view, you come?"

Despite being a projected hologram Jan suppressed his Kill-reflexes as the approaching figure came too close. Shifting, he locked his eyes on the bartender.

"Just for a visit. Tell K'ran Koreyalis that Jan Church has dropped by."

She was a D'kai. Her two meter high crab-like body was engraved with several striking marks that Jan found difficult look away from.   
The pupils of her eye stalks widen and shimmered - her smile, and with a body nod she quickly departed down an archway.

Outwardly Jan feigned a casual stance. Inward, his mind replayed the events that had brought him to this moment. It began two weeks ago ...   


_____________________________________________________________   
  


"Really your Highness, this is beyond the call of duty."

Cambridge stood on the open terrace. His form eclipsed the sun shinning through the massive xallocite clear domes of the White - the interstellar   
fortress and palace of the Archaen Empire.

"Wouldn't you agree, Ambassador Jai'Kai?"

The Rhuk-D'Kai Ambassador to the Archaen throne sat at the end of a large chestnut dinning table. A finished bowl of 'nke-nke root stew lay at   
his side. Near the other end sat Lady Onia, aimlessly stirring her own fruit salad. Jan stood in her shadow. The Ambassador cleared his throat,   
gathered his thoughts and spoke in clear Archaic.

"Though your proposition is both bold and ambitious, your Highness, I believe your attending the conference and signing the AiD Pact treaty   
is all that is required in this matter."

The Elder Shiaiimite's dark blue features remained diplomatic. His young host replied,

"On the contrary, Lord Jai'Kai, In the past two months five Archaen vessels leaving the White have been hijacked, or attacked by Ghoiite   
pirates. In each case an important Archaen dignitary was on board. These facts seem to indicate an informant on the White working   
for the pirates. A traitor. My father has instructed me to represent himself and the Empire in the signing of the AiD Pact treaty. I believe   
we can all agree that this automatically makes me an ideal target. Ambassador Jai'Kai, I would rather be predator than prey."

The young Dreamer turned to her protector. "Jan ..." The Imperial Assassin-Guardian stepped forward.

"Our plan is simple, your Lordships. At some point during our journey we will unexpectantly altar our course. If the pirates show up   
this will tip us off to the presence of the traitor on board. When the Ghoiites arrive we'll play a wounded ship, then spring our own trap."

The Ambassador nodded with interest. "Which will be? "

"We'll create a situation that will reduce the pirate's offensive and defensive capabilities. Next, we'll launch our own boarding   
parties to rescue any hostages they may have on board."

"An interesting plan, Mr. Church, but do not underestimate the fighting capabilities of the Ghoiite separtist. Though your   
'Sin-Guardian Order is perhaps more highly skilled in warfare and tactics, our force field and hologram technology is still more   
advanced than yours. By blood they are Shiaiimite, like me, born to the ways of Ul'ek fighting and psionic deception."

"Understood, Mr. Ambassador. That's where you, and Lord Cambridge come in."

"The Nano-virus you mean," asked the Shaiimite.

"Exactly. If introduced properly into their Ul'ek fighting robes, it should give us the edge we need to make this mission successful."

The Ambassador thought for a moment, then turned to his fellow engineer with raised brows.

"I still have grave doubts Jan. The virus has never been field tested," said Cambridge.

"What better opportunity," replied Onia.

"Even still, if functioning properly it will only be effective for an hour at best," answered the Dream-Engineer.

"That's all I'll need," leveled the 'Sin-Guardian.

The room drew quiet save for the hum of the White. Cambridge returned to the table and took his seat.

"It's still a risky venture, your Highness."

"Certainly worth it if we rescue any Archaen or foreign dignitaries," said Onia.

"And arrive to the conference with a properly working nano- virus as a gift to the Pact," finished Jan.

Cambridge bowed his head and touched his hands together. With closed eyes he MINDRACED the situation. When done he turned to his student.

"I'm sorry your Highness, but I won't agree unless we have the approval of your father."

"I would not have it any other way," said the Princess. The True-Dreamer studied his student's features for control and was satisfied with   
what he saw.

"If I may ask..," replied the Ambassador. "This operation could be handled by your Imperial Fleet. Why do you wish to place yourself at   
personal risk?"

"We have a saying on my world, Lord Jai'Kai," said Onia."Powerful men are made by powerful enemies."

"Ah, you are seeking glory."

As a Elder Warrior, Jai'Kai could relate to that. Onia lightly shook her head.

"Just giving them a taste of Archaen cunning, then allow them to return to their brethren and spread the word."

"Ah!... You plan to do more harm through your reputation. Very diplomatic. You create a system of checks and balances."

"Something like that. Let us just say that we wish to give them something to think about."

Inward, the Ambassador's admiration for the young Archaen grew. He was pleased and smiled, then remembered that Dreamers do not.

"Please, keep me appraised of the situation."

He stood up and his retainers, standing out or earshot, snapped to attention. Approaching their lord they ceremonially placed his shimmering Ul'ek   
robe on his shoulders. Onia stood as Jan came to her side. His arm rested casually by his left blaster.

"You have my word, Ambassador." The Archaen Princess crossed her palms to her chest and courtly bowed. The Rhuk-D'kians moved to   
exit until The Ambassador suddenly stopped. Turning, he regarded her 'Sin-Guardian.

"One more thing, Mr. Church. When it comes time to engage the Ghoiites, how will you know what you are up against? Each pirate ship is   
run by a different tribe. Each tribe is endowed with a different psionic ability: telekinesis, illusions, clairvoyance. You must admit that is quite   
an considerable x-factor."

Jan nodded in agreement.

"I understand, Ambassador. Trust me, when the time comes, I'll be fully prepared."

The Ambassador accepted that with a fragile smile. With a hand signal he departed his Ul'ek robe hiss as he left ...   


_____________________________________________________________   
  


"Hello Jan. I see you forgot to bring your brains."

K'ran Koreyalis, Shiaiimite bartender and owner of the Jade Blade, stared at the missing section below Jan's belt. Despite himself, the Archaen   
had to laugh.

"Come to pay off your gambling debts?" she asked.

"My debts! If I remember right you owe ..." but he waved his hand through the air. "Tell you what. I'm willing to forget the whole thing in   
exchange for information. I want you to tell me everything you know about three Ghoiite ships ...and their tribes. Percise information,"   
said the assassin.

K'ran rested her elbows on the bar and placed her hand in her palms. She smiled.

"I'm listening ..." she said.

__________________________________________________________________   
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

**Archaen Steel******

(formerly under the title The baby-sitter)   


________________________________________________________________________   


**BETRAY**__

_be-tray (bi tra') vt.[ult., L.tradere, delive]_

1. to help the enemy of (one's country, etc.)

2. to expose treacherously

3. to fail to uphold [to betray a trust.]

**-Excerpt form the Human Archaic Dictionary**   


_________________________________**2**_____________________________________   
  
  


Cambridge MINDRACED his speech to the Alliance in Defence Conference, again, for the three hundredth time.

*I must be getting tired,* he thought to himself. *Either that or my links are getting old.*

Finally he stop. He found the mental link to a relevant passage of a Rhuk-D'kai poem; one with startling similarity to an Asgardian oath.   
Opening his eyes, he began inputing the information into his pixel-pad, then stopped. Something was wrong. The Dreamer looked about;   
his surroundings were the same, but there was a difference. A dimness.

Something thumped outside his room. Cambridge put his pad down and stood up. Suddenly, his head expanded with the building pressure   
of a headrush. He griped his bunk for support while his heart hammered in his chest, and despite all his True-Dreamer discipline, he could not   
slow it down. The thump returned, louder, and stronger this time. Cambridge struggled the short distance to the door between fits of bleariness,   
and was successful in hitting the access stud.

A man stood in the door way. It took Cambridge a few seconds to recognize him. An eternity for a Dreamer.

*What's wrong with me?* At last it came to him. *Doyle, Second-in-command of the Retainers, assigned to protect me,* he thought.

Doyle pushed him - hard. "Get inside."

The man's breathing came in ragged gasp. His eyelids were half closed. He fumbled through the doorway, turned, tried to hit the access stud, failed   
and fell to the floor. Cambridge saw the puncture wounds on his back, all profusely bleeding. The True-Dreamer tried to kneel by his side and found   
the floor rising to meet him. Sitting up as best he could he said, "What's happening? "

"Sabotaged ...the air pumps ...he's ...he's ...coming!"

The Retainer pulled his Torpedo Blaster from his holster and aimed it through the doorway with wobbly hands. He strained as he tried to find the   
last of his strength, the torque, necessary to pull the trigger.

Too late.

His chest exploded with the muffled impact of a torpedo shell. Blood splattered across the chamber, across Cambridge's face and clothes.   
As the smoke settled, the Dreamer looked up with emotionless features. The assassin stood in the doorway, a smoking blaster in his hand.   
Even with his breathing mask on, Cambridge recognized his eyes.

______________________________________________________________________   


"Now, what can you tell me about their ships interior defense systems? "

K'ran Korayalis sat up form the bar with a perplexed look upon her face.

"Hmmm. Let's ....seeeeee...." She stroked her chin with one hand and folded the other under her chest. Her eyebrows raised and   
lowered many times in deep contemplation.   
  
"Ship ...defense systems ...hmmmmmm."

Jan rolled his eyes. "Okay."

K'ran stopped, and caught his look.   
  
"Okay, how much more?" said the 'Sin-Guardian's holographic form.   
  
"Two boxes of your Emperor's Cubanos."

"His Cigars!" Jan was astonished! "Are-you-insane?!"

K'ran's grin broaden.

"Coleman will have my head for this!" Jan flushed.

"Who's Coleman?"

"Trust me, you'll find out."

Jan's brows creased suddenly. A stabbing headache was growing between his eyes.

"You okay? Something wrong?" asked K'ran. Something 'was' wrong. Jan blinked many times. The room became bleary.

"Not ...sure ...Hold on."

Jan touched his collar and disconnected his projection in the Jade Blade tavern. His view switched to where he was really standing - on   
the deck of the Negotiator's holo-platform chamber. Only his view was now pitch black dark. Instantly he drew his Torpedo Blaster and   
knelt in a crouch position. His right hand was held up, palms front, scanning with his Sensor-glove. Heat signatures, amplified sounds all   
read as negatives, but the rooms oxygen content was down by forty percent.

"Ishtar take me for a fool," he whispered. The 'Sin-Guardian executed a series of hand signals -Battle Language - that sent a series of   
coded messages to his men via his Sensor-glove. The signal on the other end was dead, and that scared the hell out of him. Oxygen was   
down by sixty percent now.

Jan breathed in smoothly and held his breath. Removing the collar device from his neck he tucked it away in a hidden fold under his vest,   
followed by his Sabersaw, a shorter blade, only about twenty centimeters in length.

Next, he set his gunscope to wide beam and illuminated his way to the door. It was locked. Switching his blaster to dumbloads, he took a   
step back and blew the access stud off. No sparks shot out. As he suspected the power was out. His lungs began to burn.

Switching back to torpedo shells he walked to the other end of the small room, took aim and squeezed off two concussive shots.   
The muffled explosions shook the room and buckled the doors considerably, but they still held. The concussion nearly pushed the   
remaining air form him. His lungs were now on fire. Pressure grew in his head. Raising his arm he took aim again and fired twice more.   
The doors blew off their latches, and soundlessly fell to the floor. The shockwave crushed him against the wall and he saw his gun fall away   
as the floor rose up to meet him. He opened his mouth and found no air to breath.   
  
______________________________________________________________________   


"Thank Ishtar!...He's coming to."

Yaacov's face was a blurry cloud above Jan's. Wisely the Fleet Captain did not touch the awaking 'Sin-Guardian, least he trigger   
a kill reflex. Jan's head throbbed. The room came into focus despite two thousand dots in front of his eyes. They were on the bridge   
of the Negotiator. Most of the bridge crew were present. Behind them he caught the stoic form of Cambridge standing protectively   
in front of Lady Onia. Jan whispered a silent prayer of thanks. His blaster had been removed along with the blades on his shoes,   
but he could still feel the weight of his sabersaw and holo-collar tucked in his vest.

Four Ghoiite pirates stood guard in the room, their blue skin was nearly black in the dim bridge light. About their bodies their mercury   
like Ul'ek robes were formed into an impressive array of multi-plated body armor ending in long, double edged blades emanating from   
the ends of their index and middle fingers.

Jan stood up.

More Ghoiites came in from the fore and aft lifts, dragging the unconscious forms of the Negotiators crewmen. Officers, Jan noted,   
but no Imperial Marines or any of Lady O's 'Sin-Guardian Retainers. Jan caught Yaacovs eyes, he noted the same thing.   
  
As if by silent command the Ghoiite guards stood to attention and crossed their arms over their chest.

"Blessed be the command of the Prophet!" they shouted in unison

Three distinguished Ghoiites entered the bridge from the fore lift. The 'Sin-Guardian recognized the small one as the tribal cleric   
from the distinguished markings on her Ul'ek robe.

The man next to her held himself with the authority of a tribal Chieftian. There was no mistaking the tall Ghoite next to him.   
The seven foot pirate was undoubedly the tribal 'Arm' - The Clan Executioner. Jan began to unbutton his vest.

"Blessed be the Wandering Prophet!" wheezed the cleric.

The Chief fell into a series of coughing fits. His body heaved for a few moments before regaining composure. Now standing straight   
he outstretched his right hand. The pinkie and ring finger were missing.

"May Gho accept the gift of this ship," he said

The greenish, root like growth, encircling his neck to his ear and jaw, was a clear indication of a loosing battle with psionic-cancer.   
He lowered his arm and spat something to the floor.

"I am Suk O'mar of the holy tribe Rh'Marse. How may I address your leader?"

Captain Yaacov pushed forward. Jan drifted in his direction.

"I am Fleet Captain Ya..."

"Your Ar-chaen leader," said the Ghoiite leader in firm tones.

Yaacov blinked several times as the weight of those words sunk in. The bridge drew quiet. Suk awaited with crossed arms.   
Outside, a blue sun burned as it had done for over two billion years.

"UL-Um'ba...kill him."

The giants right arm lifted and his Ul'ek robed arm reformed itself into a wicked, jagged-edged schimatar. Yaacov's hands balled   
into fist. Defiantly he faced his killer. Jan readied himself.

"You may address me as Lady Onia. I am the youngest daughter to our Emperor, Shadrach Farfel Marcello VI."

Onia walked through the parting crowd, stopping ten paces from Suk. UL-Um'ba hesitated, awaiting his chief's word.

The Ghoiite looked down at the eight year old girl. "You Joke?"

"I don't Joke."

"She doesn't joke." Cambridge came up behind her. Jan drifted her way.

"My body is eight. My mind-age is eighteen. Why have you taken this ship?"

Suk locked eyes on Onia, on Cambridge. He studied both Dreamers until finally, he said:

"Where is your 'Sin-Guardian? "

Jan Stopped. The last button of his vest fell away. No one answered.

"UL-Um'ba ...Kill her."

Instantly the Ul'ek 'Arm' shot out, thinning itself into a needle like pike.

Jan's heels left the ground.

A blur came between her and the point, a glint of steel, and the sound of snapping Ul'ek. Jan's form hit the floor, and slid into   
the bulkhead wall. UL-Um'ba spun and fell to one knee. The pike tip was missing. His Ul'ek reformed itself into his sleeve.   
  
Suk was impressed. He didn't think anything Human could move that fast. Onia's features remained unchanged.

"Why have you taken this ship? "

Yaacov came to Jan's side. He didn't know if he should touch the 'Sin-Guardian or not. Jan wasn't moving.

"MINDRACE the answer, your Highness. It should be obvious."

The voice came from over Suk's shoulder. Captain Whang entered the room with Jan's Warsaw slung over his shoulder in a cavalier way.   
A Torpedo Blaster was holstered to his side.

"We're here to take you, this ship, whatever we want." Whang nodded in the direction of Jan, then looked at Suk.

"I thought we agreed not to kill him."

Suk shrugged. "It is the will of the Prophet."

Yaacov decided to risk it. He touched Jan. Nothing happened. He turned the 'Sin-Guardian over and gasped. The flat of his Sabersaw was   
pressed against his chest, a dent was pinned into the blade. Some how Jan had managed to deflect the Ul'ek strike with his weapon. Yaacov   
shot a look to UL-Um'ba. The giants weapon had finished reforming itself, yet somehow it seemed slightly diminished. He turned back to Jan.

"Mr. Church ...are you well?"

"stwrung....like...wulf...," came a feeble reply.

Inside, the 'Sin-Guardian had two fractured ribs and a bruised lung.

"Listen up ya swabbies! Yer lives will all be spared provided you follow our orders and do nothing stupid! When our business   
here is complete we have only one final request. Take word back to our Em..." and Whang smiled as he caught himself.   
As a traitor he could no longer be considered an Archaen citizen.

"...Your Emperor. Keep out of the AiD Pact ...or you'll never see her Highness again."

"Why'd you do it Whang?" The assassin spun around.

Jan slowly rose to his feet, his Sabersaw was held expertly in his left hand. Whang registerd about three seconds of shock, then smiled.

"Jan, Jan ...Jan. You never disappoint me, do you. Drop the weapon."

"Drop me first."

Whang loudly clicked his teeth several times. Around them Ghoiite pirates reformed new weapons and other things. They closed in.

"No respect for the Order, Jan. You alone should know that. Do you know what they call us behind our backs?   
Other Retainers, Marines, ...'Sin-Guardians?! BABY-SITTERS! Jan, Screwin' baby-sitters!. I didn't join the Order   
to watch some cold, heartless child. I want more!"

"With fanatics and butchers? "

"I didn't expect you to understand."

"Try me." Jan edged closer. Whang shook his head.

"I know you Jan. Keep me busy and make your move. Drop the saber or her Highness dies, here, and now!"

Jan could sense the Ghiiotes behind him. UL-Um'ba edged closer to Onia. Dropping into an En Garde stance he raised and pointed   
the blade at Whang's heart.

"Try it.".

Whang tried to read what was in Jan's eyes. He didn't like what he saw.

"They've won this round Jan. Concede," said Onia.

"I can't do that your Highness."

The room grew tense. Suk watched it all with patient amusement.

"Captain Whang, let me speak to him," said the young Dreamer

"Give me your word. No tricks your Highness."

"You have it."

Never taking his eyes off his quarry, Whang stepped aside and allowed Onia to walk past. The 'Sin-Guardian and his charge spoke   
quietly to each other. Jan kept his stance and his eyes upon Whang. From time to time he vigorously shook his head. Finally, Onia   
reached up and placed her hand on Jan's blade and guided the point down. Jan shot her a look. Onia pressed closer and spoke some   
more at length.

Jan listened.

Whang could see Jan's resolve weakening. Suddenly, he broke his stance, shot a chilly look at Whang, and threw his blade to the ground.   
Whang smiled. It was over.

They had won.

______________________________________________________________________   


Two hours later Onia watched the receding image of the H.M.S Negotiator through the Ghoiite shuttle's porthole. Whang stood across from   
her in the cramped chamber feigning a casual stance. In a corner laid Jan's Warsaw. Two Ghoiite pirates stood guard by the compartment door.   
The door opened. Onia turned and saw the tribal cleric enter. The Elder woman studied her.

Onia turned back. A second Ghoite shuttle came into view. She knew on board was Cambridge, his equipment and the nano-virus prototype.   
She knew that the Negotiator's crew were spared and that most of her Retainers were dead, save Jan. He was to return to the Emperor - dishonored.   
Whang's revenge.

She knew the Ghoiites had tried to breech the Wight's Chamber and had failed. Four Ghoites had walked into a defensive probability field   
and were instantly pulled inside out. Their cleric placed a curse on the ship and the Ghoiites left.

Behind Cambridge's shuttle a spark of light grew in the distance.

"That was a smart thing you did back there, your Highness."

Onia caught Whang's reflection in the window.

"I told Jan not to rescue me," she said.

"Even smarter." He crossed his arms.

"I told him to rescue Cambridge instead."

"What?!"

Onia turned around.

"Lord Cambridge has over two hundred years of engineering experience on the Mindplane. He knows many things.   
The specs of the nano-virus, Ghoiite and Archaen technologies. You need him more than you need me."

"Impossible. We disabled their weapons, their Stellar Marauders and Warbarges. The Negotiator barely has enough power   
to stay in orbit."

"What about the life-pods?"

"What?..." Whang's heart began to hammer. Something was wrong.

"Did you disable the life-pods?"

"No ...but ...they're useless. They haven't the speed to overtake us, nor any weapons."

Onia shrugged. "You're a 'Sin-guardian. What would you do?"

Whang stepped closer. He studied the view through the porthole. E'Bok Tan burned in the distance behind the other shuttle.   
Suddenly he turned back to Onia. Fear filled his eyes. Onia nodded and continued.

"Sling-shot effect around the sun and ram the shuttle with the life-pods. They have extra shielding, good maneuverability   
and are designed for high impact crashes as you know. About half a squad of Imperial Marines could fit inside one.   
That's all Jan would need."

Whang's mouth dropped open. "No ...insane. Cambridge could be killed."

"Perhaps."

Suddenly, alarms went off throughout the shuttle. Whang flinched, sweat dampened his forehead. He backed away from Onia.

"Watch her ...watch HER!" Picking up Jan's Warsaw, he ran from the room. Onia locked eyes on the tribal cleric. The old   
woman hobbled closer to her.

"You're an Archaen witch. We should kill you."

"Don't talk to me. Your breath is horrible."

The old women's face flushed purple. A torrid of Ghoiite swears spilled from her mouth. Onia shut her out and studied her face,   
became fascinated with her complexion instead. She MINDRACED an obscure line from a Jack Gilbert poem.

* ...Purple is black blooming.*

She MINDRACED many things - anything, to keep her emotions out. To keep her free of her one, true, thought.   
- that she was alone now, and would never see her family or home ...ever again.   


______________________________________________________________________   
  
  



End file.
